


an incident at isla nublar

by zombeesknees



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Jurassic Park
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 19:57:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombeesknees/pseuds/zombeesknees
Summary: A Jurassic Park/Doctor Who crossover of epic proportions! | Written for Challenge 37, "crossovers", at then_theres_us at LJ many moons ago.





	an incident at isla nublar

She told him she’d always wanted to see a dinosaur.

“You know when you were a kid, and you got _really_ obsessed with dinosaurs and had to watch all the documentaries about them…”

She trailed off, glancing over the console at him, because she’d just remembered _who_ she was talking to. The Doctor had never been a nine-year-old boy playing with dinosaur toys in the neighborhood park’s sandbox. No doubt he’d simply told his parents — (Did he have parents? That was a funny thing to suddenly realize she knew nothing about, but it had never come up in conversation. She _assumed_ he must have had parents, if he’d been a father himself; Time Lords didn’t just grow on trees or split apart like amoebas, did they?) — that he wanted to see a dinosaur, and they’d hopped into the family TARDIS and _saw_ one. 

“Anyway,” she said quickly, “on Earth, I’m pretty sure _everyone_ loves dinosaurs when they’re little. Pretty sure there's a rule about that. And I’ve always wanted to see a _real_ triceratops.”

“I always liked velociraptors, myself,” the Doctor said nonchalantly, making his way around the console and flicking levers and buttons indiscriminately. “The feathery cheetahs of the prehistoric world. Very clever, too; good at problem-solving. It’s that big brain of theirs—well, big in comparison to most dinosaurs. Not big compared to ours, of course. Bet they’re rubbish at chess.”

Rose giggled, following him in his circuit. “So you’ve seen dinosaurs?”

“Yep,” he said, with a funny half shrug as he reached for an awkwardly placed handle. “Not with these eyes, though, and not for _years_. So that’s your vote for the next stop, eh?”

“Yes, please,” she bounced eagerly.

He continued to fiddle with a dial, but what he was _actually_ doing was smiling at her in that dopey way she found heart-squeezingly adorable. 

“Triassic, Cretaceous, or Jurassic?” 

“Jurassic, definitely.”

“Then hold onto your butt, Ms. Tyler,” the Doctor said, eyebrow arching as he reached for the red lever. “We’re going back to when dinosaurs walked the Earth.”

The engines whirred and buzzed and hummed as the entire room shifted like an unbalanced washer, and as Rose clung to the edge of the console and tried not to lose her footing, she laughed.

“Too bad we couldn’t have cued up some dramatic music to that last bit!” she yelled over the racket of the TARDIS.

\---

“And what, exactly, is _that_?” 

The Doctor glanced down at the bicycle helmet he was trying to shove into his backpack. It was proving difficult thanks to the springs and antenna he’d attached to the bright blue plastic. “It’s my… beta and alpha wave synchronizer.”

“So… a telepathic helmet?”

“If you must call it that,” he huffed with a wounded air. 

“What are you planning on doing with that?” she demanded as he zipped up his bag and slung it over one shoulder. “Gonna ask a T-Rex to tea or something?”

“I’m just curious,” the Doctor said. “If it’s possible to actually communicate with a velociraptor.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to get close enough to one to talk to it,” Rose said. “I’d like to keep my internal organs right where they are. Anyway, we all set?”

“Think so.” He sized her up, taking in the practical hiking boots, khaki shorts, tank top, button-up flannel shirt, and floppy tan hat. “You look…”

“It’s not too much, is it?” she said, glancing down. “I’ve always assumed this was the sort of get-up paleontologists and explorers wore.”

“It’s perfect,” he said firmly, grinning. “Very Indiana Jones. C’mon, then, Professor Tyler. Let’s go find ourselves some dinosaurs.”

\---

“Um, Doctor?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought dinosaurs were dead for a few million years before humans came along.”

“Yep.”

“Then what the hell is that giant building doing over there?”

“Uhhh… Don’t know. Let’s go find out, eh?”

Lacing her fingers with his, off they ran through the lush grass.

\---

The lawyer was beginning to piss Rose off.

Everyone else had accepted the psychic paper credentials after the Doctor had rattled off some stunningly in-depth knowledge regarding the ferns in the entryway—greatly impressing Dr. Sattler simultaneously. But the shrew-like Mr. Gennaro continued to pepper them with questions, clearly doubting their rushed explanation. 

The man seriously deserved to be stepped on, or, at the very least, gagged. 

“And, uh, what exactly do you do, Ms. Tyler?” 

Rose glanced over at the lanky Dr. Malcolm. His black leather jacket reminded her of the Doctor’s (the last one, obviously), and she smiled without thinking about it.

“I’m the Doctor’s assistant,” she said. “I make sure he keeps his appointments, doesn’t misplace his tools, you know.”

“You strike me as a very capable woman,” Dr. Malcolm said with a crooked grin, reaching up to adjust his glasses. “Not the type to panic or lose your head, am I right? What do you know about Chaos Theory?”

“Rose!” The Doctor’s sudden shout interrupted whatever she was about to say, much to Ian Malcolm’s disappointment. “Come take a look at this!”

“Okay, what am I looking at?”

“A very lovely wall mural of a brontosaurus,” the Doctor said in an undertone. “I just wanted your opinion on this whole situation.”

“Uh, well, I think it’s a neat idea. Cloning dinosaurs in modern times,” Rose said after a moment. “If it was just the friendly dinos, anyway, no problem. But when you’ve got T-Rexes and raptors running around—”

“Something’s bound to go from wonderful to very very not good,” the Doctor agreed. 

“Especially when you’re around,” Rose said, jabbing his side with her elbow. “You’re like a magnet for Murphy’s Law.”

“If you could all follow me down to the cars,” Mr. Hammond announced. “I believe the last guests have arrived.”

\---

“Why don’t you go talk to Dr. Smith over there?” Dr. Grant suggested with an exasperated grimace, pointing.

“What’s he a doctor of?” Tim demanded.

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I’ve got a friend back home,” Rose was saying to Lex as Tim marched up to them. “His name’s Mickey, and he’s crazy about computers, too.”

“Hey,” Tim said loudly.

“…But there’s an inherent problem in Chaos Theory,” the Doctor was saying animatedly to Dr. Malcolm. “It’s completely disproved by Hershberg’s Proximate—”

“Hershberg’s Proximate? I’ve never heard of that particular hypothesis,” Dr. Malcolm interrupted. “Would you care to explain it to me?”

The Doctor faltered for a moment, his brain catching up to his mouth as he realized he’d just referenced a theorem that wouldn’t be written for another two hundred and seventeen years. “Ah, well…”

“Hey, Dr. Smith,” Tim said, tugging on his coat.

“Oh, yes? Tim, was it?” The Doctor eagerly turned his attention to the small boy.

“What are you a doctor of?”

“Everything,” the Doctor said blithely. “I sort of… dabble. Why d’you ask?”

“Because I’ve been reading all about archeology and paleontology, and I was just hoping to talk to someone who was an expert in those fields,” Tim said, wiping the back of his hand across his nose. “And I was going to ask Dr. Grant about his extinction theory, but he said you might be the better person to talk to.”

“I see…” The Doctor glanced over at the grumpy paleontologist, who was giving him a definite 'keep him occupied' expression. “...Well, Timmy, there have been several extinctions in history. It’s sort of a natural cycle here on planet Earth—every few hundred thousand years the climate shifts or a stray asteroid strikes the surface…”

When the group divided into their cars, the Doctor found himself sandwiched between Mr. Gennaro and a very interested Tim, who barely paused for breath between questions. He turned awkwardly in his seat to glance through the back window into the next car, where Rose simply smiled and waved before turning her attention back to whatever Dr. Malcolm had just said to her as he took her hand.

As he took her hand and made her laugh.

The Doctor refrained from jumping out of the car, but it took all of the self-control he’d learned over the past four centuries.

\---

As he followed Dr. Grant out of the car and into the torrential downpour, his hearts thrumming in his chest, he couldn’t even find solace in the fact that he’d been right.

Because—really—he was _usually_ right.

“Here, here!” he shouted, waving the sonic screwdriver and blinking the rain from his eyes. He hoped Dr. Malcolm was made of stern stuff—even _his_ back would be aching after being tossed through the air like that by a full-grown Tyrannosaurus Rex. 

As he’d hoped, the combination of light, movement, and sound attracted the dinosaur’s attention away from the half-crushed car it had been pushing over the concrete barrier. As the gigantic head swung toward him, the cavernous mouth opening to reveal a plethora of uncomfortably sharp teeth and some of the worst halitosis he’d ever had the misfortune to encounter, the Doctor gulped.

“Um, okay, so maybe not the most well-thought-out of my plans,” he muttered, spinning on his heels and taking off in the opposite direction. He pushed his legs to their extremes, calling up every ounce of stamina that he had. 

Hopefully, these trainers wouldn’t fail him. 

Hopefully, Dr. Malcolm was still alive. 

And hopefully Dr. Grant could get the kids out and back to the safety of the compound.

Thank goodness Rose was back there already with Dr. Sattler.

\---

“What do you mean they’re stuck out there?” Rose demanded.

“It’s one of the dangers of automation, I’m afraid,” Hammond said, twisting his amber-topped cane nervously. “If something is derailed or breaks down, it’s nigh impossible to fix it remotely.”

“Then we’re going out there, right?” 

“The T-Rex paddock is off-line, Mr. Hammond,” Muldoon announced gravely.

“Alan’s out there, and the kids,” Dr. Sattler said, her face pale and drawn.

“Not to mention the Doctor,” Rose added. “He can usually handle himself, but I doubt even _he_ can talk down a T-Rex.”

“We’ll take one of the gas-powered jeeps,” Muldoon said, putting on his hat and picking up a large rifle.

Usually, Rose would say something about the gun—traveling with the Doctor, certain things rubbed off on you. 

But in this particular situation, she’d rather have the weapon than have to face a hungry dinosaur unarmed.

\---

“Okay. Oooookay,” the Doctor mumbled to himself, stepping over a large branch. “Break it down into simpler pieces. One: other than ‘huge forest’, I have no idea where I am. Two: I’m no longer being chased by a Tyrannosaurs Rex, which definitely goes into the plus column. C: I seem to have misplaced Dr. Grant and the children.”

Something screeched in the near distance. The Doctor pressed close to a tree and quietly took off his backpack.

“Rather lucky I remembered to grab this when I jumped out of the car to distract a bloodthirsty dinosaur,” the Doctor said to himself in an undertone, pulling out his awkward helmet. “With just a _little_ fine-tuning and a _bit_ of jiggery-pokery, I might be able to calibrate this to lead me to the nearest human. Just sync it up with the closest higher-level brainwave pattern and….” 

After a couple minutes of sonic whirring, the Doctor flicked the helmet’s switch to 'on', slipped it over his great hair, and firmly buckled the strap under his chin. He turned slowly until he heard a soft ping.

“Blimey, I’m good,” he grinned as the helmet whispered in his ear, directing him eastward.

\---

“It definitely needs more pressure,” Malcolm insisted. “Right _there_.”

“Dr. Malcolm,” said Rose, flashing a brilliant white smile, “this isn't exactly the proper time to be coming on to me. Make light of the situation one more time, and I may just rip that leg off entirely.”

Malcolm grinned, and with his glasses lying somewhere back by the T-Rex paddock, Rose had to admit that he looked rather _nice_ —despite the evening’s wear-and-tear. Or perhaps because of it. “You sounded just like my second wife Vanessa right there,” he said. “She's _always_ ready with a threat of physical violence. Course, maybe that had something to do with the fact that she was a world class kick-boxer…”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Tyler,” Hammond spoke up absently, wiping a silk handkerchief over his red face. “Dr. Sattler and Mr. Arnold will be back any moment now—the power will be back on, we’ll find Dr. Grant and my grandchildren, and we’ll be off the island in no time. At this point, what else could _possibly_ go wrong?”

Rose and Dr. Malcolm exchanged very blank looks.

“Rose, this Doctor of yours? Can he handle himself out there?”

“Absolutely. Definitely. …As long as he doesn’t let himself get distracted.”

\---

“You do have to give the idiots some credit,” the Doctor said, smiling like a mad thing as he crouched down at the edge of the overhang. “They _really_ did their homework. No matter how hard I try, I’ll never stop underestimating the sheer ingenuity, cleverness, and brilliant stupidity of the human race.”

The skittish cluster of gallimimuses he’d been admiring began dispersing, wheeling and turning like a flock of startled birds. His helmet whirred in his ears, picking up the brainwave pattern he’d been following for most of the morning.

“Hmm, must be in those trees. Seems like Dr. Grant is a capable fellow,” the Doctor said to himself, squinting to make out the blurry shape of the compound just beyond the trees. “Getting the children halfway across the island and this close to the compound in only a few hours.”

He stood, straightened his coat, and reached out to take the hand that wasn’t there. Checking himself, the Doctor frowned. 

“How does that girl manage it?” he muttered, making his way down the sloping hill. “Seems like half of our days are spent trying to find one another. And here, here’s what may be the most perfect field I’ve ever seen for running, and I’ve got no one to run through it with. No hand to hold. Talk about inconsiderate.”

His hand clenched and unclenched at his side, his fingers flexing irritably. 

“And what if I suddenly have the most brilliant epiphany the entire universe has ever known?” the Doctor said after a sullen moment of silence. “Then who could enjoy hearing it, eh?”

The sound of grass crunching behind him — the feeling that he was being watched — made him stop suddenly and stand stock-still. Every hair on the back of his manly, hairy neck stood to attention as the grass rustled around him. 

Sometimes he was so thick. 

Too busy admiring the science that had gone into cloning gallimimuses to notice they were panicking in fear. 

Too busy whinging to the sky about his loneliness to hear the tell-tale sounds of predators in the tall grass. 

Too busy thinking himself so clever to create such a device to realize that perhaps the helmet wasn’t leading him to the closet _human_ brainwave pattern…

The Doctor turned slowly on his heels, hands half-raised in a gesture of surrender. Three man-high, mottled brown velociraptors stared back at him, heads cocked to the side in interest, like curious birds. 

There were three that he could _see_ , anyway. 

“Helloooooo,” he said softly, slowly reaching up to twist the dial on the helmet. “How are you lovely ladies today? Fabulous weather we’re having, eh?”

Halfway through the last sentence, the largest of the trio took a short step forward before pausing again, head swiveling to the other side. 

“Hmmm, seems I found the right modulation,” the Doctor murmured. “Hello. I’m the Doctor.”

The raptor’s eyes narrowed. _**LOUD. Slow. Food.**_ It didn’t speak, and it wasn’t as if the words formed coherently in its mind. But all the same, the Doctor was fluent in over a million languages, some of which involved pictograms, and understood the swirl of images and emotions the helmet received. 

“Yes, I’ve got quite the gob,” the Doctor apologized. “And I’m afraid I’m knackered after my run earlier, so I suppose I’m a bit slow. But food? Nah, I’m most certainly not food. I taste horrible.” He imagined the most disgusting flavors he could, projecting them in detail. All three raptors opened and closed their mouths in disgust, as a housecat would. “I could get you some tasty food, though, if you’d like.”

One of the other raptors made a harsh squawking sound, not unlike a parrot with laryngitis. _**Food now.**_

Of course, _of course_ , these kinds of creatures wouldn’t have a concept of past or future—their entire being was focused solely on the present demands of hunger and danger and mating. No good telling them he’d get them food _soon_ , because they had no way of understanding what soon even meant.

“Big meal, very big meal,” the Doctor said quickly, making hand gestures that startled the third in the trio. “Lots of meat, meat for _everyone_.” He pictured the Tyrannosaurus as vividly as he could. “She’s very slow, too, compared to you. Your pack could take her down like _that_.”

The second raptor was clearly excited, the muscles along her flanks quivering and twitching. _**Much food! Tasty food!**_

“Right through there,” the Doctor said, pointing toward the trees. “I can take you straight to the buffet.”

The largest raptor sniffed deeply, giving herself a small shake. _**Yes. Now.**_

As the Doctor ran through the grass, flanked by the leathery cheetahs of the Jurassic, his mind tried to outpace them and figure a way out of this toothy conundrum. 

At least he’d had the presence of mind to turn off the helmet first. Wouldn’t want to clue them in when the inevitable brainwave hit.

\---

Forget suitcases—this was an entire _luggage set_ of not good. He’d decided to lure the pack away from the compound—it was far too big of a risk to take them straight to the front door, especially if the power wasn’t back on yet or the children hadn’t reached safety.

Of course, that would only put himself in more danger: when the pack’s leader wised up, sensing a change in his body language or scent, she no doubt would then immediately jump onto him and chew his flesh from his bones.

But hey — he’d been in tighter situations before. And he was the Doctor. The risks were there for him to take.

However, that whole plan went to pot just as he began to veer away from the compound. One of the raptors stopped abruptly, head raised stiffly and nose tipped to the gusting air. They’d caught something—the scent of the humans, of another dinosaur—and the trio immediately altered their course and made straight for the buildings. 

“Wonderful,” the Doctor muttered. “And with my luck, someone’s probably left the front door opened.”

The door, no. 

But it turns out the front windows hadn’t been velociraptor-proofed. 

Shaking the glass shards from their skin, the three made straight for the dining room.

\---

“Dr. Sattler? Mr. Arnold?”

Rose took in the broken glass covering the floor and gulped. It had been a doozy of a storm last night—maybe that was all. And the power had gone back on, so Mr. Arnold and Ellie _must_ have taken care of the reboot. Their next logical step would have been back to the main building, where Dr. Grant would have brought the kids, no doubt.

There was a loud crash somewhere. The sound of metal bending and shrieking—no, wait, that was a _voice_ screaming. 

A very high-pitched, _young_ voice—

“Timmy?! Lex?!” Rose grabbed the nearest thing—a flagpole on a stand. Kicking the circular plate from the bottom, she tightened her grip and ran toward the commotion.

She rushed through the dining room doors, flagpole at the ready, and narrowly avoided skewering the Doctor.

“ _Bloody hell!_ ” she cried, hiccuping in surprise. “And _where the hell have you been_ all night?”

“Haven’t exactly got time for a chat,” the Doctor shouted breathlessly. He was wearing that daft helmet. Timmy had latched onto one of his hands, Lex on the other, and both wore the white-eyed glaze of pure terror. “Next time, _I_ get to pick the vacation spot. C’mon!”

“But what the _hell_ is going on?!” Rose screamed, following the three, still holding on to her makeshift weapon.

“Some new friends of mine. Lovely gals if you fancy a spot of running, but they’re a bit difficult to deal with when they’re hungry. Very bite-y.” The Doctor hesitated at the center of the room, swiveling his head to glance at all of the exits. “Uhhhh, where should we go?”

“Doctor!” 

“Oh, Dr. Grant, Dr. Sattler, very nice to see you both. Where would you go in the event of a velociraptor attack?”

“Oh God, they’re inside the building?” Dr. Sattler said.

“Yep. Shut up in the kitchen at the mo, but I’ve no doubt they’ll figure out the handle in just a few seconds.”

“The handle? They’re animals,” Dr. Grant said. 

“No, they’re the most efficient, clever killing machines the Jurassic period ever saw,” the Doctor corrected him sharply. “And believe me when I say they’ve got the brains to figure out door handles. Now, back to escaping!”

“The computer room,” Dr. Sattler suggested. “It’s got incredibly heavy doors.”

“That’s perfect,” Rose said as they ran down the hall. “The Doctor’s aces at computers.”

\---

“How could you not know how to hack into their system?!” Rose screamed, leaning against the door.

“It’s a Linux!” the Doctor shouted, grunting as he pushed beside her to keep it closed. “I always hated Linux. And my usual method didn’t work.”

“What, double clicking on yes?” Rose said sarcastically. “You’re _so_ lucky Lex is here—you just wait until we get back home, I’m telling Mickey _everythin’_.”

The Doctor groaned. “Great, made to feel a prat by Mickey the Idiot.”

“Oy!”

\---

“It’s not that far of a fall,” the Doctor said encouragingly. “C’mon, Timmy, it’s just like a video game, just like Mario! You just hop right down there onto the skeleton and climb your way to the floor. Allons-y!”

“There’s one behind us!” Rose warned as the boy finally took the plunge and grabbed hold of the immense skeleton.

There was a sudden lurch in the duct, and the others found themselves unceremoniously thrown onto the frame of bones. 

“Just once,” Rose screamed, hanging onto the spinal column by the tips of her fingers. “I want to have an adventure with you that doesn’t include me hanging off of very high things!”

“Ah, but that’s just part of the fun!” the Doctor said, just as the entire thing gave way, toppling them to the ground in a spray of bone dust. They had hardly regained their footing and breath before they were surrounded. The click-clack of oversized claws was ominous against the marble floor.

“Everyone together, quick, back-to-back,” the Doctor ordered, clambering to his feet. “Don’t give them any sign of weakness.”

Rose’s hand found his. He returned the squeeze, flashed that manic smile she’d come to trust, and reached up for the dial on his ridiculous helmet. 

“What’re you gonna do?” Rose hissed.

“Maybe if I show them what they’re dealing with, they’ll back down,” the Doctor murmured. “These creatures understand power hierarchies. The alpha calls the shots. Let’s see how they react to the full power of the Oncoming Storm…”

The smallest raptor was tensing to leap, her claws like gunshots against the floor, when suddenly everything trembled, the doors burst inwards, and into the hall stepped one of the largest carnivores planet Earth has ever seen.

“It’s the tasty food!” the Doctor cried immediately. “That’s the tasty food!”

The three raptors squealed and shrieked, leaping at the Tyrannosaurs, slashing and biting even as the larger creature bent and snapped up the smallest in its cavernous jaws.

“ _Out out out out!_ ” the Doctor shouted, grabbing Timmy’s hand with his free one and swerving around the prehistoric combatants for the door. As the others stumbled down the front steps, hearts still in their throats and the hot tang of adrenaline screaming through their veins, the Doctor found the time for one last look backwards at the savage, vicious, beautiful beasts humans was never meant to see in the flesh.

\---

“I have only one question for you, Doctor,” Dr. Grant said as they approached the helicopter.

“Just one?” The Doctor made a face and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Hope it’s one I can answer.”

“What in the hell is that helmet for?”

“Oh! Well,” he reached up to unbuckle the strap, running his fingers through his hair. “It lets me talk to dinosaurs.”

“I see,” Grant said slowly with a solemn nod. “...Good bye, Doctor.”

The Doctor made a little half salute before turning to the mastermind behind Jurassic Park.

“Mr. Hammond, I hope you’ve learned a very valuable lesson,” the Doctor said somberly.

“I have,” Hammond said quietly, greatly diminished from the boisterous, exuberant man they had met only a day ago. “These creatures... they’re far too dangerous. I was a fool to think we could contain them.”

“Yes, well, that _is_ true,” the Doctor said. “But I was talking about always having a secondary system tied to an independent server and a back-up generator, to prevent the power from ever going out on the enclosures.” 

Hammond blinked.

“Aren’t you gonna ride in the chopper with me?” Malcolm asked, flashing a smile through the pain as Grant angled his splinted leg across the seat. 

“Nah, got my own ride. Bit more posh than this,” Rose said. "More space to spread out."

“If you’re ever in New York,” Malcolm said, “and you’re interested in learning a bit more about chaos and unstable bodies…”

“Thanks for the offer, Dr. Malcolm, but I get plenty of chaos with the Doctor. Good luck.” Rose offered her hand for a warm handshake; Malcolm stubbornly refused to play along and kissed it instead. 

“ _Au revoir_ , Rose Tyler.”

“Tim, me lad,” the Doctor said, helping him into the helicopter. “You’ve got a fine head on your shoulders. And if you’re still interested in making a name for yourself in the paleontology field, I’d suggest taking a look in the southwest Alberta area, Canada. You might find some interesting things up there, if you poke around enough.”

“Gotcha,” Tim said, managing a weary smile.

“Hey, Lex,” Rose called as Grant reached for the door. “You’re the best hacker I know. Thanks for those mad typing skills.”

The girl waved as the door latched closed.

“So, dinosaurs,” the Doctor said, slinging his helmet over his shoulder and reaching for Rose’s hand. “The triceratops still your favorite?”

“Considering it’s the only one that didn’t try to eat me, yeah,” Rose smiled. “And how about you? Still a fan of the raptors?”

“Eh,” the Doctor shrugged. “Not very good conversationalists.”


End file.
